


Find the path back

by Transdodds



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Developing Relationship, Eventual Relationships, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-08-09 04:23:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16442912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transdodds/pseuds/Transdodds
Summary: Peter is not dealing with the cases, or with the guilt over his sisters death. Despite their past Rafael is determined to not let Peter suffer the same fate he did and to help this broken man fix himself.





	1. Zero Tolerance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in process, updates will be irregular and whenever an episode inspires me to write another chapter.

Rafael had just wanted a quiet drink. That had been his one goal when he entered the bar, which he knew was close to the courthouse, but you couldn’t fault a man for occasional bouts of nostalgia. Anyways, it wasn’t like it was Forlini’s, the chances of bumping into a member of the squad, or an ADA, or even worse a defence lawyer, were slim. So he took his chances and sat down at the bar, ordering a fairly expensive whiskey, not as expensive as he used to get, but what he considered now to be a luxury.

He was halfway through this luxury when ADA Stone walked into the bar, obviously a regular from the way the bar staff almost immediately started pouring out a drink when he entered, and Rafael felt a pang of jealousy, of longing, for when he was that regular at the bar. For when he lived the life Stone now had. He bore no resentment towards the man, he knew he had simply been doing his job, but that didn’t stop Rafael feeling deeply envious when he had heard Stone had been giving his job, as well as wishing to never see the man ever again. But, when had the universe ever listened to what Rafael Barba wanted?

At least Peter made sure to sit at the opposite end of the bar, though if that was more out of a wish for his own privacy than a respect for Barba’s, Rafael did not know. However, as he saw Peter down his drink and rapidly order another he figured it was more than likely to be out of a need to be by himself. Rafael was no stranger to nights like these, when the cases got too much, and all you wanted to do was lose yourself, and get out of your own head. Peter seemed to be achieving that aim, although he was at least slightly slower in his progress through the second glass.

By the end of the third, Peter stood up, still steady on his feet, and plopped himself down next to Barba.

“Of course you’re here, of course the great Barba is here. Everything ends up being about you.” Peter said, and Rafael was confused, both by the words Peter was saying, but also from the harshness of the man’s tone, certain that if anyone had a right to be mad at the other it was him.

“Stone. If you would care to elaborate on that statement I’m all ears”

“Every case, every legal issue, even every damn warrant they need signed, you can tell they want you there instead. Benson even said that much, she said she could get other lawyers to prosecute a case and you could tell she wanted you.”

“They’re a tight knit squad, you’ll end up fitting in. Just give it time” Rafael said, uncertain as to why he was giving Stone genuine advice. Maybe it was because he recognised the night Peter was having so well, except he had had those sort of nights much later into his time with SVU, and it was worrying to see the new ADA so ground down already. Especially because from what Rafael remembered of the trial, Stone had been a paragon of virtue, seeing him like this, it wasn’t right and if no one else was going to look out for him then it seemed like Rafael would have to take that burden. Maybe it would just be additional penance to pay for a crime he was never officially convicted of.

“It’s always time” Peter said, giving a dry chuckle that held no humour. “Time is always what it takes, time will stop me seeing those images of Pam, time will make it easier to know I’m living in my father’s footsteps, becoming someone I hated, time will make it easier to just exist.” Peter said, taking a long gulp of his drink when he was finished. He was about to raise his hand for yet another one when Rafael interjected.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough.”

“Oh, and you know best? Of of course, I forgot. I’m talking to the great Rafael Barba, who knows everything and can do anything.”

Rafael sighed, he wanted to help the man, but he was not making it easy. “I know enough about nights like these, and you have to know when to go home, when to shut the book on your regrets, fears, or whatever you’re wallowing in right now.”

“Oh, is that what you did?” Peter asked, wearing the smile of someone who knows they’ve won an argument.

“We both know that it isn’t, which is why I’m telling you this. I know what can happen if you go the other route, if you let it get to you too much.” Rafael turned away slightly when he finished speaking to ask for the cheque. His drink, which had certainly not been quiet, was now finished. He then took out a gold pen from his inside pocket and quickly wrote something down on his napkin, sliding it over to Peter.

“This is my number, if you have another night like this, call me. Please. I don’t want to see the job ruin someone else” he said as he stood up. “Take care of yourself Stone.”

Peter, who had folded the napkin and put it in his pocket said, in a quiet voice that seemed at odds from the harsh, bitter tone he had been using for the rest of the evening, “It’s Peter”

“Take care of yourself, Peter.”


	2. Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finally calls Rafael, and Rafael realises Peter may need even more help than he first thought.

If Peter had to describe how he was feeling in one word it would be restless. The case had got to him, reminding him of Pam and of his father, of one of the few times he had actually seen an ounce of humanity in the man. But a case getting to him was nothing new, not at this point. It seemed like every case was worse than the last, each one finding a new crack in his armour and hitting him hard. What was new was the fact he was still here, in his apartment, instead of going out to a bar, which is what his body was urging him to do.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have alcohol at the apartment, he knew for a fact there was at least one very nice bottle of scotch just waiting for him. But drinking alone at the apartment wasn’t what he needed, at a bar he could pretend that he wasn’t trying to drown out the memories of the day, he could pretend he wasn’t alone. That was something even easier to pretend when he found someone good looking to spend the night with.

But he couldn’t keep doing that. He couldn’t keep dealing with the bitter taste that was left in his mouth whenever he snuck out of bed in the middle of the night, or the aching void that would sink into his chest when he left their embrace and faced the fact none of that closeness, that affection, had been real. Which is why he was still in his apartment, skin buzzing like electricity was flowing just underneath the surface, desperately trying to think of reasons why he shouldn’t leave.

He knew he should call someone, knew he didn’t have nearly enough self control to stop himself. But the list of people he could actually call was pitifully small. He had friends in Chicago, but the distance meant there would be a certain ease in lying to them, in talking on the phone and going out anyways. There were his coworkers, he knew for a fact that both Benson and Carisi would be more than happy to talk him out of it. But while it was no secret to them how badly he was doing, the thought of actually telling them, actually admitting it was unbearable. And aside from coworkers, the number of people in New York who he really trusted, who he thought would understand, would listen, would help, became a total of one. 

Rafael Barba.

He was halfway through typing the number into his phone when he hesitated. Barba had said to call him whenever he was having a rough night, he had been the one to offer up his number. But at the same time, Peter wasn’t exactly sure why. There was no reason at all why Barba would see Peter as anything other than the man who orchestrated some of the worst moments of his life. Peter had taken everything from the man, should he really be asking for more?

Maybe he should just go out to a bar, drink his problems away, and if he found himself in someone else's bed, so what? Maybe that was just his way of dealing with the problem. And that line of thought is what got him to continue reading the numbers off the crumpled napkin he had been handed a few weeks ago. Because he would be using people either way, but at least with Barba he had offered it up, knowing the kind of man, the kind of mess, Peter was.

Barba had been wary of answering unknown numbers ever since the death threats all those years ago, but he was still drawn to them with a degree of morbid curiosity and dread, even if they often turned out to be cold-callers instead of people threatening his life. Tonight it turned out to be neither of those two categories, but instead someone who he had been half expecting to never call.

“Barba, it’s Peter Stone”

“Peter, I feel anyone calling me for help at ten at night can call me Rafael.” Rafael said with a smile. He had been worried about the man ever since he had seen him so defeated at the bar, and hearing his voice, knowing that this was probably Peter reaching out for help, made a wave of relief wash over him. 

Peters fears that he would be bothering Rafael weren’t exactly soothed by that statement, even if he was pretty sure it was just a joke. “Right, Rafael. Sorry for calling so late, I know I’m probably not who you want to be talking to right now, just say and I’ll hang up.”

“Peter, I gave you this number so you could call me when you needed to, if you need me to listen, I’m not going to hang up”

“Thank you” Peter said in a quiet voice, marvelling at how kind, how good, Rafael was. Not for the first time he thought that it should be Rafael who still had the job as ADA, and especially after today, with Olivia having to get him to stop shouting at a victim's father… he couldn’t do the job, not in the way Barba had. “I’m sorry, for ruining your life, for taking your job even when no one wanted me to and I can never seem to do it right.”

“Sorry to drag you out of your self pity for a moment, but do you really think you ruined my life? That’s a lot of ego for someone who thinks they can’t manage anything. Without you there, McCoy still would have needed to prosecute me, there still would be a trial. You didn’t ruin my life, that was all me. And as for not doing a good job, they’re hard cases. It will get easier and you will get better”

Peter wasn’t sure if he wanted it to get easier, not really. In fact the idea of being desensitised to the violence and the horror terrified him. And then there was the fact that any of it getting easier, the job, but also everything to do with Pam, and his father, seemed impossible.

“What if it doesn’t? What if I just can’t handle the cases?” Peter said, his voice starting off as almost a whisper as he let out fears he had tried to keep hidden, but getting louder as he got more worked up. “I can barely see a female victim without immediately thinking of Pam… what if that never stops?”

Rafael’s heart sank slightly, he had known that if Peter ever called it would probably be about his sister. He hadn’t heard much, just that she had died, that it had been a cartel, one that Stone was prosecuting. That, combined with the fact it was so soon after his father, he doubted Peter would be coping well. And while he could patch up everything else with a few harsh words of encouragement, this was outside of his area of expertise. He doubted Peter would like what he was about to say. He knew he wouldn’t have in his position.

“It will get better, Peter” Rafael said, hating how cliche it all sounded. “But you have to get help, and I mean actual help. A therapist. Because I can offer advice, but you need someone professional. Trust me on this, some things you can’t work through on your own, you need someone in your corner.”

Peter knew Rafael was probably right. And after everything Pam had gone through, he knew that there really were some things you needed that sort of help for. But there was still some reluctance, as if it would be admitting defeat in a certain way. And then there was the idea that while it was okay for other people to need help, he was meant to be stronger than that. He was meant to be the one who could handle everything.

Rafael seemed to sense his reluctance and continued to speak. “I started seeing one, after the trial. But not just because of that, a few years ago I started getting threats, nothing too serious, but still, serious enough.” Barba said, his voice shaking slightly as he recounted how scared he had been on those steps, underneath all that bravado. “I probably should have seen one at the time, but I convinced myself I would be fine. Looking back, that was definitely less than true.” Barba admitted, thinking of the sleepless nights, and how it was probably the beginning of the end, the job starting to grind him down. 

“Okay. I'll find someone” Peter said after a pause. Something about Barba admitting that he was seeing someone and that he wished he'd seen one before reassured him it was the right thing to do. He had gone to Barba because he would be one of the few people who might understand, to not take his advice seemed foolish, especially when Peter was starting to feel Barba was smarter than he would ever be. “Thank you, for listening to me.”

“Of course. And I was thinking we should meet up sometime, maybe next week. I know how isolating the job can be and it's never good to be alone.” There was silence over the phone and Rafael grew nervous, thinking maybe he had overstepped their relationship. After all it was a complicated one. “We don't have to if you don't want to, we can keep it as just phone calls, or you don't have to even do that if you don't want to.”

“No, that sounds nice” Peter said, the uncertainty in Rafaels voice shaking him out of his thoughts wondering why on earth Rafael would want to do this, wondering how one man could be so brilliant, and how he could have then destroyed him. Despite whatever Rafael said, that guilt was not going to fade away any time soon. 

“Okay, I’ll text you a place. Good night Peter.” Rafael said, voice soft and looking forward to the dinner. Despite their past he knew that Peter was intelligent, charming, all in all a not too bad dinner companion. And if it would help the other man that was just another welcome benefit. 

“Good night, Rafael” Peter said, putting down the phone and feeling more calm than he had in months.


	3. Caretaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Peter goes to Rafael for comfort again and Rafael offers it they grow closer, although they might just be becoming too close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this took me ages to update, but hopefully I should have the next chapter up before Thursday so this fic is finally caught up to Canon.

Rafael's fingers hovered over his phone, trying to work out exactly what to text Peter. Their dinner last night had gone better than he could have ever expected, considering their less than pleasant history. The Peter he had met at the restaurant was so unlike the overly confident prosecutor in the courtroom, or like the broken man in the bar. He had started off as polite, if slightly reserved, as if he was trying to pull up the walls Rafael had already peaked behind. But small talk and questions about the job moved slowly into anecdotes about the squad, and then personal stories. Rafael remembered with a small smile the long conversation Peter had had with him about his baseball days. Rafael couldn’t stand sports, but the way Peter lit up when he talked about it, how carefree he seemed, Rafael couldn’t bear to do anything except nod and smile and ask more questions. Rafael wouldn’t call the dinner a date, not when they still barely knew each other, but it hadn’t been the depressing dinner with a lost soul he had expected. Whatever it was that had happened between them, Rafael wanted to continue it. 

He was just about to start typing out a message when there was a knock on his door. Rafael approached it cautiously and was almost taken aback when he saw the very man he was just thinking about through the peephole. 

“Peter, how do you know where I live?” Rafael asked as he opened the door. 

“Carmen told me. I’m sorry for intruding, but I can’t be alone right now. Not if I don’t want to do something stupid” Peter said, and even if his voice hadn’t sounded so small, so different from the booming timbre in the courtroom that day, the fact Carmen had given out his address would have let Rafael know something was seriously wrong. When he caught a glimpse of Peters green eyes as he led Peter inside and onto a couch his theory was confirmed. No longer was there the excited glint, but instead just despair, brokenness. Rafael wondered once again at how destructive the job really was, with the ability to make this change within a day. 

“What’s wrong Peter?” 

“I am. Ever since I’ve come to New York I’ve ruined everything.” Peter said, and Rafael wondered if this once again going to be about the trial, before Peter continued. “I have too much blood on my hands, Barba. First Pam and now....” Peter trailed off looking down at his hands. 

“Pams death wasn’t your fault” Rafael said, trying not to think too much about the fact that he was back to being called Barba. 

Peter gave a small, derisive chuckle. “Everyone keeps telling me that, the squad, my therapist, you, they just keep repeating it as if that will make it come true. She wouldn’t have been a target if I wasn’t her brother, she’d still be alive if… I wasn’t even a good brother, I abandoned her in some facility to move across the country and try to pretend it didn’t hurt that she didn’t know who I was. When I came back I tried to make up for lost time and I just got her killed.” Peter said, his voice breaking slightly towards the end, and Rafael wanted to wrap his arms around him and pull him in tight, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want to presume anything about whatever they had together, if they even had anything at all. Maybe Peter just kept coming to him because Rafael had happened to find him at that bar, and it was clear he would listen, would understand, and that was it. Just someone to vent to.

So instead of moving close to Peter, Rafael tried to reassure Peter in a different way. “Going to Chicago was just you following your dreams, it wasn’t malicious. As was going after the cartel, you didn’t think they would hurt Pam.”

“Exactly, I never think. Except about myself, about my career, about my case.” 

“Peter, what did you do?’” Rafael said, still aware that Peter seemed to think he was responsible for yet another death, and knowing that unless he knew the full picture, the full extent of Peters guilt and self loathing, he would never be able to help. Although he was somewhat doubtful he would be able to help at all, after all he had never been exactly known as the most warm hearted of people. But he had to try. 

“I killed a mother, a defendant. She murdered her husband, her children, said she was saving them from the world. And I, I asked why she didn’t save herself, why she didn’t just kill herself. I regretted the words as soon as I said them, but I couldn’t take them back, couldn’t stop them being heard. She was found dead in her cell. Because of me.” 

“Peter if you regretted the words then you obviously didn’t want her to die. No mens rea, no murder.” Rafael said, even as his mind raced. There was something in the back of his mind, a case he had read once, that seemed to be important, something involving Stone, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what. 

“She still died because of me, call it manslaughter if you want to, it doesn’t change the facts. I was too focused on just winning the case, furthering my career, my reputation.”

“You can keep telling yourself that if you want to keep wallowing in self hatred, but we both know it isn’t true. You wanted to win, not because of your career, but because it’s what those kids deserved, they deserved justice. And before you ask how I know that, I worked at Manhattan SVU for five years, that’s not the sort of place you stay if you want to further your career, your winning streak. Not with the sort of cases Liv sends you, the nearly unwinnable ones which still deserve to be heard, deserve someone to try. In fact, you don’t stay at SVU at all if you just want to get ahead, those cases… it’s not worth it if all you want to do is win.” Rafael said, letting out another sigh. 

“Maybe I’m just figuring that out now, maybe it’s just sinking in that I’m the wrong person for the job, that I should never have agreed to take it from you.” 

The case that had been niggling at Barba, floating around at the back of his mind suddenly came to him and he knew what he had to say next. “You’re not the wrong person for the job, because you’ve never been that dedicated to your career. After the trial I read some of your cases.” Rafael admitted, but offered no further explanation, mostly because he wasn’t sure himself why he had done it. Some sort of mixture of a desire to punish himself and genuine curiosity. “You tried to get new legislation passed, about emotional abuse, and I read what prompted you to do it.” Peter, who had looked up when Rafael had said he had read his cases, looked down again in shame as Rafael continued. “You must have known there was no way that case would succeed, no way you could convict a husband of pushing his wife to suicide like that. But you still knew the case deserved to be heard, even if it ruined your record. Which is why I know you’re always thinking about the victims, not about yourself. It’s also why I know what you’re afraid of right now. You’re not like him, okay?”

“How do you know, how do you know that I haven’t become like the people I try to put in jail?” Peter ask, his voice almost a whisper, yet his fear and desperation could still be heard so loud. 

At the sound of Peters voice Rafael finally gave in and scooted closer, wrapping one arm around Peter. It wasn’t exactly the hug he wanted to give, but with the way Peter relaxed into it, it seemed to be enough. 

“Because you’re here, panicking about even the possibility you’re like them. Because you’re hating yourself for what you did. We both know that the people we prosecute don’t often have that level of regret” Rafael said, and while Peter still seemed to refuse to meet his eyes, he gave a small nod in response. “Also, I want you to know you didn’t take anyone's job. I left, of my own free will.” Rafael added, knowing it was slightly off topic, but wanting to set the record straight. “I was planning to leave already, how do you think I got a job so quickly? I already had a position at Hudson, I knew I needed to get out.” Rafael said, not adding that he still wasn’t quick enough to leave before the job truly ruined him, or that Hudson only agreed to still take him on if he promised to never speak about any cases he prosecuted that involved Hudson or about his own case. 

“I just assumed…” Peter said, his voice slightly louder, more steady, and Rafael was glad that they seemed to finally be on calmer waters. He knew Peter would have his fears, his doubts, that there was no way he could get rid of them all. But if he could keep them at bay for just this evening, he would count it as a win. 

“You know what they say when you assume.” Rafael replied with a smirk. “But there was no reason to think otherwise, I hadn’t even told McCoy yet, paperwork still had to be sorted out.” Rafael left out the fact that he didn’t tell anyone because he didn’t want them to end up convincing him to stay, instead asking Peter if he had already eaten. 

Peter wanted to say yes, which technically wouldn’t be a lie if you counted the hotdog he had for lunch, not wanting to overstay his welcome at Rafael’s, not wanting to get too close. But his stomach seemed to have other ideas, betraying him before he could speak by giving a loud rumble. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” Rafael said as he moved into the kitchen, and Peter got up from the couch to follow him, hovering slightly in the doorway as Rafael rummaged through the fridge. “My mom visited this weekend and brought way too much food as usual. She doesn’t seem to understand that my new job does in fact still pay me.” Rafael said with a chuckle that was returned by Peter, and their joint laughter seemed to signal that the conversation had truly moved on to more pleasant topics. 

The rest of the evening progressed almost like it had last night, easy conversation and laughter. Rafael would have been surprised at how relaxed Peter was suddenly, if he hadn’t been using that same method of compartmentalising for as long as he could remember. It was only when the food was finished that the conversation faltered. Peter knew that he should leave, that it was getting late and he had already used up too much of Rafaels time, but he didn’t really want to. He enjoyed how easy it was to talk to Rafael, enjoyed the comfort that came from eating a home cooked meal and he enjoyed more than he would ever admit the way Rafael sounded when he said the name of the dish, the Spanish dancing gracefully off his tongue. Actually, he loved the way Rafael sounded all the time, the way you could hear his smile sometimes, even if one barely ever appeared on his face, or the way it had sounded earlier, comforting and soft, making Peter feel like he was the only one that mattered and that Rafael would keep him safe. Which were all further reasons he should leave, whatever he could have with Rafael, he knew it wouldn’t just be a one night stand, and he couldn’t deal with anything more. 

But before he could make his excuses and leave Rafael spoke. “If you want to stay here you can, it’s late, and anyways I don’t know where your place is, but I’m pretty sure my apartment is closer to the office” He gave a small laugh at the end, hoping it didn’t betray his nerves. He was normally more careful in relationships, at least since everything with Alex. He made sure that the other person almost always made the first moves, made sure his heart was never the one the line. Until now, it seemed. 

“This place is definitely nearer” Peter said, both accepting Rafael's offer despite how dangerous he knew it could be, and sidestepping the issue of where he lived. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Rafael, he did, immensely. He just didn’t like the idea of anyone coming to his apartment, it was the one place that was just his and that no one else got to see. The one place he could really stop being ADA Stone, or former professional baseball player and just be Peter. 

After the agreement that Peter would be staying the night the conversation started back up again. But while they still shared stories and occasionally debated some aspects of the law, there was an underlying current of tension that hadn’t been there before. It only seemed to increase when the conversation of sleeping arrangements came up again, both refusing to let the other sleep on the couch, which seemed to be how Peter ended up lying in bed, next to Rafael. Both everything he wanted and everything he knew he couldn’t have. 

That still didn’t stop him leaning in when Rafael did, Rafael’s lips tasting slightly spicy from the food they had just had, and the slightest beginnings of stubble scratching lightly against Peters skin. Peter deepened the kiss, even as he knew that if he went any further he would lose what seemed to be his one support, the one person who could talk him down on his worst days. 

But then Rafael pulled away. He didn’t want to rush things, and he didn’t want to accidentally take advantage of Peter, still remembering the state he had been in just a few hours ago. He didn’t pull away that far, though, still cuddled up in Peters arms as he fell into a peaceful sleep. And despite the thoughts running through his head, all his fears and worries, Peter soon joined him.


	4. Mea Culpa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has been pulling away ever since the kiss, but after he gets caught up in a hostage situation Rafael can't bare to just let him go.

Peter woke up in someone else’s bed, which wasn’t an uncommon situation. What was uncommon was the way his heart flipped and a smile spread across his face as he looked over at the man sleeping beside him. Rafael’s hair was a fluffy mess, so unlike the neat parting he styled it to be, and he looked smaller than he ever had before, cuddled up in Peter's arms. As if Peter was someone he could trust, someone safe. 

But then his heart starting to beat faster as his brain woke up and his smile disappeared as he realised exactly what sorts of thoughts he was thinking. So, he slowly detached himself from Rafael, slipping out of bed quietly, praying he didn’t wake him up, and left the apartment, trying to ignore the way his heart begged him to stay, to just get back into bed. 

It had been almost a week since that morning and he had had no contact with Barba. He felt like he should have sent an apology for having to leave without saying goodbye, some excuse about a case coming up. But he never seemed to build up the courage to actually send the text and as the days dragged on it got harder and harder. So Peter instead tried to forget about that night he had spent with Rafael in his arms, one of the few nights he hadn’t suffered from a nightmare.

But even as he drank the nights away, sleeping with any woman who made him feel even the slightest bit wanted, his heart seemed determined not to move on. The emptiness in his chest that he had been able to ignore for so long was a constant aching throb, calling out for real companionship and every time he kissed someone and closed his eyes he swore he could taste spice, could feel stubble scratching softly against his cheek and whenever he opened them again and wasn’t met with those striking green eyes he desperately tried to pretend he wasn’t disappointed. 

And then, as he stood in a bar staring at a gun and pretending it didn’t scare him at all, he could only think of Rafael. Of what could have been if he had stayed in bed that morning, the possibility of a week of soft and gentle kisses, of restful nights, of comfort and happiness that he could have had and didn’t. And now it seemed he never would. At least he would be sparing Rafael some pain, he thought, as he tried to keep his voice steady and talk down the man standing before him. Which is why he refused to call Rafael even though he desperately wanted some of the comfort the other man provided. He couldn’t risk Rafael getting too close, couldn’t risk doing anything that might hurt him. As painful as it was to know that if he had died in that bar it wouldn’t really change anyone's life, no one would be truly impacted, truly affected by his absence, it was also better that way. 

Rafael disagreed. Carmen had called him as soon as she herself had got the news, she didn’t know what exactly was up between her former and her current boss, but Peters request for Rafael's address along with the fact she hadn’t got an angry phone call from Rafael for giving it out told her something was going on. Enough that Rafael deserved to know. Ever since that phone call Rafael has been desperately checking his phone for any messages from Peter and tried to stop himself from calling. 

Ever since that kiss Peter had pulled away completely, and Rafael wanted to give him his space. After all, he was the one who had taken advantage of Peter while he was obviously in emotional distress, he had no right to go after him. But after several hours of receiving nothing he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to know how Peter was doing. 

Which is why less than an hour later he was standing outside of Peters door, and before he could overthink it, before he could go through the undoubtedly long list of reasons why he shouldn’t, he knocked. After a few minutes of silence Rafael wondered if he should knock again, or if Peter was even home. Part of Rafael thought it would be unlikely Peter would be out at another bar, but he couldn’t be sure how Peter would act in a situation like this. 

As it turned out Peter reacted by going to his apartment and getting drunk there, this becoming clear when he finally stumbled to the door, an almost empty beer bottle in his grip, the slight smell of booze wafting off him as he spoke making it clear it was nowhere close to his first.  
“Rafael, why are you here?” Peter said, draining the last of the bottle and silently cursing himself for calling him Rafael, if he wanted to create distance between them that wasn’t the way to do it. 

“Carmen told me where you lived.” Rafael said. “Are you going to let me in?” he added, when it became clear Peter wasn’t going to just step aside and let him through. 

“You didn’t answer my question, why are you here?” Peter said, ignoring the last part of Rafael's sentence. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay”

“As you can see, I’m doing fine” Peter said, hoping Rafael wouldn’t see through the lie, wouldn’t realise that it had taken several beers to just stop his hands from shaking, and that he would leave. 

“Peter you don’t have to lie to me” Rafael said, part of him wondering while he was still pushing. Peter obviously didn’t want him there and he wasn’t ordinarily the sort of person to go running after other people's attention, not anymore. 

“Why not? What makes you so special, Rafael? You think that just because we kissed there’s something important between us?” Peter regretted the words as soon as he said them. Rafael refused to let the expression on his face change but Peter could see from the slight tightening of his shoulders and the clenching of his jaw that Rafael was hurt. It seemed to be that whatever he did he always ended up hurting others. Especially the ones he cared about. 

Without saying another word Rafael turned around and started walking away, however he only managed a few steps before Peter called after him, and while he refused to turn back to face the man, he did stop. 

“Rafael, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You were just trying to help and the truth is, today was hard, and I would like you here.” Peter said, almost thankful that Rafael still was obstinately refusing to face him, it made the admission of vulnerability easier. “It’s just with the kiss-” 

Rafael cut him off before he could continue, finally turning around and deciding now was as good a time as ever to unburden himself of the guilt that had quietly started eating at him ever since Peter had pulled away. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. You were in a vulnerable state of mind, you came to me seeking help, comfort, a friend. I shouldn’t have pushed for anything more.”

Peter felt he should tell Rafael that he didn’t take advantage of him, that he wanted he kiss, he had wanted more. But that would mean explaining the real reason he pulled away, and Rafael was handing him a lifeline, a way to pretend he hadn’t ruined everything and return to the comfort he hadn’t realised he so desperately needed. He didn’t want to mess that up by explaining all his problems. 

So instead he just nodded before saying “Well, one friend to another, do you want to come inside for a drink?” Peter said, almost sighing with relief when Rafael nodded back at him and walked back towards the apartment. 

“I should have some good scotch lying around” Peter added. He had gotten a few bottles as condolence gifts back at his fathers funeral, and had never opened a single one. Partly because he didn’t really drink scotch, but also the gifts didn’t really seem to be for him, given to him by people who only knew his father, who coincidentally loved scotch. 

As Peter let Rafael into the apartment and went into the kitchen to get himself another beer and pour Rafael a drink he tried not to overthink anything what was happening. They were just friends, sharing a drink. It didn’t matter that Peter was starting to get warm feelings in his chest whenever he even thought about Rafael, didn’t matter that he had never let anyone else into his apartment before, didn’t matter that actually he didn’t care as much as he should at the fact that Rafael was there now. They were just friends, and that was all they were ever going to be. All they ever could be.


	5. New Years Eve Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Rafael spend New Years together with the squad, and Rafael realises that his promise to just be friends with Peter might be harder to keep as the new year rolls in.

Rafael relaxed on Livs sofa, listening to her talk about Noah as if not a single thing had changed since his rather dramatic departure. While he had declined the invitation to the squads Christmas party, their new years get together was a different story. For one thing it was held at Olivias apartment instead of at the precinct, which he still couldn’t quite stomach stepping foot in yet. Another thing was that it was just the squad instead of all the Unis, who Barba feared would be slightly less sympathetic to his situation, especially due to the fact he had never exactly been popular with the police even before his trial. 

As the conversation continued he couldn’t help but sneak glances at the door. The whole squad was here, except for Peter, and while Rafael wouldn’t admit it even to himself, he was excited to see him again. Work had gotten busy for both of them, meaning most of their conversations had occurred over phone, and while Peters voice still made Rafaels heart flutter in a way he felt slightly guilty about, it didn’t compare to the man actually being there in front of him. He missed being able to see the way his eyes would glitter when he smiled or got particularly into an argument. He told himself that it was alright to admire Peter that way. As long as he kept his feelings hidden, made sure that nothing actually happened between them, he was keeping to the agreement of them being just friends. He told himself that so often he'd almost managed to convince himself it was true.

The doorbell rung and Olivia got up to open the door, revealing the very man he had been thinking about. He got up to greet Peter, but stayed to the back of the group, not wanting to seem too excited. Also he wanted to let Peter take the lead for how he greeted Rafael. They hadn’t really discussed if they wanted the squad to know they were friends, not that it was something shameful, but just because their friendship had a certain strangeness to it. There was something unique about the companionship shared between the defendant and the prosecutor. 

To his relief Peter greeted him with a smile and a soft Rafael instead of the firm handshake and muttered ‘Barba’ he had half been expecting. 

“Peter, good to see you again” Rafael said, copying his warmth. They talked together for a while, both about a legal case they had discussed a few days ago, and Peter asked about some of the students who featured more prominently in Rafaels stories. But then Sonny pulled Peter away, and from the look of his frantic hand gestures Rafael guessed it was to talk about a legal issue. He would’ve almost been jealous that Peter seemed to have so easily filled the role he once had if Sonny hadn’t had a similar conversation with him before Peter had turned up. 

He stood watching them talk with a small smile on his face which Liv seemed to have noticed. She took him by the arm and gently lead him back to the sofa, offering him a glass of whiskey. 

“So, what’s with you and Stone?” She said, her voice more curious than accusing. 

“Nothing!” Barba said, before realising that there was only a slim chance she had realised his true feelings for the man, and even if she had his answer wasn't going to dissuade her of her suspicions. “I mean, we’re just friends. He seemed like he needed help starting out in the role, SVU is a tough position to slip into, so I reached out.” Rafael said, hoping that Peter didn’t mind he told Olivia all this. He had tried to hide most of the truth of their meeting, but even so, men like Peter disliked any sign of weakness being discovered. 

“Friends.” Liv repeated with a smile on her face like she didn’t quite believe Rafael. “Just be careful, Rafa. He’s going through a tough time, he tries to hide it, but he isn’t okay.” 

“I told you, we’re just friends. And trust me I know all about what he's going through.” Rafael said, trying and failing to hide his irritation at the slightly patronising tone in the last sentence. He knew better than anyone how hard a time Peter was having, he'd picked up the phone on enough bad nights and listened to Peters alcohol and guilt fuelled rants and wished he could do more to help the man. He knew exactly the sort of state peter was in, probably better than anyone. 

Liv sighed slightly. “Look, I'm just worried about you. I see the way you look at him, and just... be careful"

Rafael internally swore, he hadn’t realised he was being that obvious, and he realised he had to be so much more careful. Peter needed a confidant, a rock to lean on, not some lovesick fool. He also knew that he couldn’t keep lying to Liv. “Look, whether or not I want more, we're just friends."

“Alright, just know I’m here for you. I miss our nights at Forlini's, drinking and discussing cases and our various life problems”

Rafael just nodded in response, he knew he had been getting bad at staying in contact. There had been a whole month after the trial he hadn’t answered the phone for anyone. He'd barely even left the house. This had only stopped when his mother came around and started pounding at his door, telling him that if he didn’t open up she'd call Benson to knock down the door. He’d gotten back on his feet, but some wounds seemed too scarred to reopen, the whole squad being one of them. 

But he did enjoy their company, which was why he was here, and why he made a mental note to float an offer of drinks with Liv later. Liv seemed to guess what his nod meant, as she swiftly moved the conversation away from his slightly pitiful love life and instead started to ask him about the best way to ask Carmen out. He couldn’t say he was exactly surprised, he could always hear them laughing whenever Olivia came to visit him in his office, saw the way Olivia looked just a little less tired when she entered. 

As the conversation moved on so did the night, and soon Midnight began approaching fast and the champagne glasses were poured out. As they all stood up Rafael seemed to find his place next to Peter, being drawn to the man like a moth to a flame, and Peter probably had the potential to be just as dangerous. Rafael was used to being able to hide all attraction, of letting the man chase him, of waiting until he had weighed up all the options before saying yes to anything. He had learnt his lesson a long time ago and now he guarded his heart carefully. However Peter seemed to be breaking down his determination to not let another smooth talking, handsome man take ownership of his heart. 

As the clock chimed twelve and the new year began Rafael clinked his glass with Peters, and couldn't help but be happy that he was spending the new year with Peter. It seemed to be a good omen. But then his mind drifted to Peters lips, to the idea of kissing him, it was tradition after all. And Rafael wanted it so much, wanted to feel Peters strong hand cup his neck as soft lips brushed against his. 

Cheering from the squad thankfully broke him out of his daydream and he tore his eyes away from Peter, instead catching Livs, who was watching him with a knowing smile. And maybe she was right, maybe he really was in too deep and he needed to be so, so much more careful.


	6. Dear Ben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After learning more abut his father, Peter is lost as to what to think. But Rafael is there to try and help him make sense of what he feels about his father, even if he makes it harder for Peter to know what he feels about Rafael.

Whatever warnings Liv had given Rafael on New Years, she seemed to have decided that he would remain close to Peter whether she thought it was a good idea or not. So while she kept an eye out on Peter, he had also become a topic that came up semi-regularly in their conversations. Which meant Rafael was only mildly when he answered a phone call from Liv to hear her say

“Peter just dropped by, took Noah out to play catch”

“Oh that’s good, he seems to really like spending time with Noah. I think it’s the first time in a while he’s seemed really excited about something. But I doubt you would have called me just for that”

“He’s going to need you tonight, and I’m not sure if he’ll actually seek you out.” Liv said, and while part of her felt like she was breaking some sort of code telling Rafael this, Peter needed help. 

“What happened?”

“The Infinity rapist”

“He resurfaced, I heard. Did something happen to Peter?” Rafael asked, starting to get scared. Peter had already been in a hostage situation, he couldn’t bare the idea of him getting hurt again. 

“His father led the original investigation, and Infinity had some kind of obsession with him. I think it’s stirring up some things he’s never let himself deal with.”

“Thank you for the heads up, I’ll invite him over” Rafael replied before saying his goodbyes. He wasn’t sure what Peter was going to say when he came round, but he had a feeling it would take away some of the shine from good old St Ben. Then again, a good lawyer did not automatically mean a good man. 

He sent Peter a text asking if he wanted to come around to watch a game, to see if he could finally get him actually excited about sports. Then he went round to the corner store to grab some beer, he hoped it wouldn’t be needed, but he wasn’t naive either. 

When Peter arrived he looked good, almost breathtakingly so. The circles under his eyes seemed to be fading, and there was a glint of excitement in the emerald green of his eyes that hadn’t been there before. And with the way he declined a beer and instead asked for just water Rafael almost hoped that Liv was wrong, that Peter was finally doing okay. But he knew if Liv thought Rafael should keep an eye on him, there was a reason. 

As the game went on Rafael started to forget part of the reason he had asked Peter over and just enjoyed his company, how lively he seemed to be, how passionate. He kept telling Rafael facts about the different players techniques, and Rafael almost couldn’t believe that he’d apparently been struggling with a case just hours earlier. 

But then a player hit a home run and even as the crowd on the tv started cheering Peter seemed to go still, his frantic infectious energy leaving him. Instead he seemed to become contemplative, before reaching for a beer from where they still stood on the coffee table, as if they had been patiently waiting for when Peter would finally stop pretending he was okay. 

“I was always so angry at my dad for missing my games. As if my games were somehow more important than his work.”

Rafael didn’t say anything for a few seconds, allowing time for Peter to continue speaking if he wanted to before saying. “You were just a kid back then, you couldn’t know exactly what he did.”

“I might have not known the cases, but I was a teenager. I knew it was important”

“You were his son. You should have been the most important thing to him.” Rafael replied, his voice rising slightly in volume before he reigned it back in. He had known that this would be a difficult topic for him, but he had to keep his own emotions out of this for now. 

“What if I was and I just couldn’t see it. I mean, he left notes in his files about me, to try and remind himself about stuff I’d done. Work just always got in the way. I know firsthand how awful this job can be, and he had two kids to look after. Maybe I expected too much of him” Peter reasoned, and Rafael took a while to think about how to respond. He had expected anger, or hidden grief, but right now Peter just seemed locked in an argument with himself, and Rafael wasn’t sure if even he knew which side he wanted to win. 

Peter continued speaking, letting Rafael off the hook of trying to decide what to say.  
“I knew he was dying and I didn’t let myself forgive him. I was there in his hospital room, but I still resented him. I didn’t even speak at his funeral, what kind of person does that?”

“When my dad was dying, I kept waiting for when I would feel remorse that we hadn’t sorted things out. I think that was part of why I kept him alive so long, why I didn’t want to take him off the machines. I thought if I could continue seeing him weak, maybe I’d stop hating him so much. I still haven’t really stopped hating him, I don’t think I ever will. It works for me, the anger. It fueled me, got me through all those cases, knowing I was standing up to people like him. I was protecting families from him. But it doesn’t always work for everyone.” As he finished talking Rafael took a sip of the whiskey he was very thankful he had poured out, the burn in his throat a helpful distraction from old pains starting to make themselves known. 

“Rafael, I didn’t know. I’m sorry-” Peter started to apologize, feeling guilty about unburdening all his problems on Rafael when it was clear he had his own issues. 

“It’s okay, I don’t make a habit out of telling people.” Rafael said, taking another sip of his drink. He had several reasons why he was careful about creating any sort of reliance on alcohol, but for conversations like this he had to admit it was needed. “He was an angry drunk. He hit my mother until I was old enough to realise my sarcasm could be used as a weapon and started drawing his attention”

Peter, almost without thinking, placed his hand over Rafaels, which had become clenched tight into a fist, his knuckles white. He rubbed his thumb across the top of Rafael's hand in what he hoped was a comforting motion, continuing even when Rafael's fist started to loosen. 

“Rafael, I’m so-” Peter cut himself off, he had a feeling Rafael wouldn't appreciate apologies, it would feel like bordering too much on pity. “That’s awful” He said instead. 

“I got through it. And I didn’t have to deal with everyone telling me how brilliant a man he was, in fact I haven’t even heard his name in years. I certainly don’t have people constantly referring to me as his son. Just in case you were trying to compare our two situations. Also, I would have hoped you have more respect for me than to use me simply as an argument to help your self hatred.” 

Peter was quiet for a bit after that, both of them pretending to turn their attention back to the TV. Rafael realised that Peters hand was still on his, and he knew he should probably move it, but he couldn’t quite tear himself from the warmth. And he could almost let himself believe that the thumb gently brushing against his skin was meant as more than just a comforting gesture. He knew that was a dangerous path of thinking to follow, but he couldn’t quite stop himself. 

“Maybe forgiveness is what’s best for me. I mean everyone else adores him, why shouldn’t I? There’s just one thing, one thing I can’t get over. I keep seeing all this evidence that he loved me, that he was proud of me. Notes to self about my games, my achievements, McCoy told me he would tell anyone he could about the games I won. But he never told me. Not once.” Peter said, breaking up the silence and finally putting into words what had been bothering him every time he came across more evidence that his father wasn’t the distant, uncaring man he thought he had been. 

“I can’t stop thinking about why I never called him, to try and fix things” Peter continued. “But… phones work both ways. He could’ve called me as well. Especially when I became an ADA, I mean he must’ve known I would have understood. He could have explained. So why didn’t he? Why was he this amazing, supportive dad to everyone except his own kids?”

“I don’t know, Peter” Rafael said with a slight sigh. He missed the days when he seemed to have all the answers, or a plan to get them. Even when things had been tough, he could say the right thing, he could make order and justice out of the most chaotic situations. But now he just felt helpless. “I don’t think you’ll ever know.”

“Then how am I meant to forgive him? I know I should, but I can’t.” Peter says, his stomach twisting with guilt as he admitted his failure. 

“Maybe you can’t. Maybe you just have to try and move on instead.” Rafael replied, wishing he had an answer which didn’t sound so much like failure. “Or maybe you’ll forgive him eventually. Whatever you choose, it will probably take a lot of time. But either way, you know I’ll be there for you” 

Rafael slowly turned his hand over so he could fully take Peters in his. He gave Peters hand a squeeze he hoped was comforting, but to Peter it felt like he’d sent electricity flowing through his skin. He couldn’t concentrate on anything except for the heat from Rafael's hand, or the way his long fingers wrapped around his hand, his thumb mimicking the gesture Peter had been doing before. He wasn’t sure why he had thought it was a comforting gesture, it was, but it was also so much more. 

Feelings that he had been trying so hard to bury were starting to come back in full force and all he wanted to do was tug on Rafael's hand to bring him closer so he could kiss him again. Instead he just took a deep breath, trying to focus on anything else, finally settling on the advert playing out on the TV. When he felt calmer he finally turned to Rafael, plastering on a smile that he hoped hid everything he was currently feeling. 

“Thank you, you’re a good friend.” Peter said, hoping saying the words out loud would somehow help remind him of who Rafael was, and the lines he shouldn’t cross. Because he knew if he let anything happen he would ruin it, and he couldn’t let himself do that to Rafael. Not when he knew with all his heart that Rafael deserved so much more than the broken man Peter knew himself to be.


	7. Part 33/Brothel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unwilling to bother Rafael during the anniversary of the trial, Peter instead falls into his old coping mechanisms when the cases start getting to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the large delay in posting, however I should hopefully get another chapter out relatively soon and will then be up to speed with the series. As always comments are greatly appreciated.

Rafael hadn’t been woken up by a phone call in years, well a year, almost exactly. Being a professor didn’t exactly bring as many midnight calls as being an ADA had, but his muscle memory quickly took over, blindly picking up his phone. However the voice on the phone, while still a woman's voice, was definitely not Olivias. 

“Sorry to bother you, but can you come over?”

“Who is this?” Barba asked, his tired mind wondering if this was yet another volley of threatening phone calls, but then again they’d never been this polite. 

“Oh, right, sorry. I’m Sophia, a friend of Petes. Anyways, he’s in bad shape, at my apartment, I was wondering if you could come pick him up?” The voice said, before rattling off an address. 

Rafael barely suppressed a sigh, Peter had seemed to be doing so much better, at least he had the last time Rafael had seem him. They had been distant lately, both due to work and from Rafaels own desire not to see Peter. Because despite how many times he had reassured Peter that there was no bad blood between them after the trial, the one year mark had just passed and he couldn’t quite take seeing him, not when he had started to feature in quite a few of Rafaels dreams, although nightmares would be a more accurate term. 

“I’ll be right there” Barba said, cursing the fact that his last name meant he was probably top of the contacts list. So much for the continued avoidance. And there was an additional layer of annoyance at Sophia, at the way she called Peter Pete, like they were close. It was an annoyance he didn’t want to examine, having a sinking feeling that looking at it too closely would reveal it to be a jealousy he had no right to be feeling. 

Rafael felt dead on his feet as he travelled on the elevator up to this strangers apartment to pick up a presumably still incredibly drunk Peter. When he knocked he was greeted by someone clearly still dressed from a night out, and for the first time in decades Rafael felt almost underdressed in the sweatpants and jumper he had thrown on. 

“Sorry for calling so late, it’s just-”

“It’s fine” Rafael brushed her off. “Where is he?”

“In the bedroom, just through here. We didn’t do anything, he just looked like he needed a lie down” Sophia said, and Rafael was puzzled as to why the additional explanation was needed. He was even more puzzled at the way it untangled the knot in his gut slightly. 

Of all the things he expected, Peter looking peaceful, was not one of them. But as he entered the bedroom he saw Peter splayed out on top of the covers, all the worry lines gone from his face, looking undisturbed by the outside world and all of Rafaels annoyance at being woken up like this almost immediately disappeared and was replaced with a need to take care of Peter. To look after him. 

“Is he unconscious?” Rafael asked, trying to remember the lessons he learnt from looking after friends, well really more like acquaintances, back during his Harvard days. 

“No, he just fell asleep. He had a lot to drink but I don’t think it was that much.”

Okay, good, that was good. He’d keep an eye on Peter, but at least they wouldn’t have to go to hospital. At least not tonight. He leaned over towards Peter and nudged him, Peter stirring slightly with a groan. “Rafi” 

“Come on, Peter, you have to get up.” Rafael said, nudging Peter again and he slowly opened his eyes, looking over at Rafael blearily.

“Just a few more minutes, love” Peter muttered, face still buried in a pillow. 

“Come on, up” Rafael said, ignoring the way his heart was galloping, trying to convince himself that he’d simply misheard Peter. And even if he hadn’t, he was drunk, it wasn't like it meant anything.

He nudged Peter again and he finally sat up and slowly moved towards the edge of the bed. With a sigh of relief Rafael went back into the kitchen to get him some water. 

“I didn’t know, by the way. When I took him home, I wouldn’t have, if I realised he wasn’t single” Sophia said grabbing a glass. “And, don’t go to hard on him. He seemed like he was in a really rough stop, and like I said, nothing happened. Not really. We were kissing and then he started panicking, said I should call you. So, just, don’t go too hard on him” 

Rafael was grateful when she handed him the glass and he could move back into the bedroom to hand it to Peter, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to explain they weren’t dating, or if his heart would be able to take it if he could. He also didn’t want to examine the reasons why Peter had managed to get this stranger to think that they were dating, wary of any sort of false hope that would inevitably be dashed when morning came. 

A few minutes passed in silence as Peter gulped down the water, and slowly got to his feet. Leaning his weight on Rafael they slowly made it into an uber and back to Rafael's apartment. 

 

Peter awoke with a groan, his entire body protesting with aches the second he moved. The worst was his head, throbbing in time with his heart beat and making it hard to think, but his back didn’t fare well from a night on the sofa, either. He’s not as young as he used to be and everything seems to be reminding him of that fact. He abandons sitting up to try and get a better look at his surroundings and instead remains slumped on the couch as he slowly remembers what happened last night. 

He hadn’t been feeling great, not just that night, but the past few weeks. The cases had been awful, working with the squad had been difficult, all of them becoming unpredictable on the stand. Finding out that a judge had been using his powers to become like the very people Peter was trying to put away had been the final straw. The judge knew his father, had been friends with his father, was even fairly friendly with Peter, and yet the entire time he had been this monster. 

Normally he would call Rafael, get some food, a few beers in him, and he’d either be pleasantly distracted or Rafael would let him talk it out. But he couldn’t, he was all too aware of the date. How could he not be? Part of the reason this was all hitting him so hard was that the anniversary of his father's death had just passed. He always told himself he was going into law for his own reasons, that he wasn’t going to become his father, but he couldn’t keep kidding himself. He had become stuck in the very same system his father had been, and doubting that system meant doubting everything he knew about himself, and cementing everything he thought about his father. 

But no matter how much he wanted to rely on his friend, he wasn’t going to bring forward a host of questions about the morality of the legal system around the anniversary of the trial. It wouldn’t be fair. And anyways, he should be strong enough to deal with it himself. That was why he had started seeing a therapist, after all, so that he didn’t have to constantly lean on Rafael, and could instead start leaning on himself. But all the techniques he had learnt to try and calm the thoughts in his head just weren’t working and he couldn’t help but think that there was one thing that would. One thing that always worked. He kept trying to convince himself not to, that it had been months since he had properly drowned himself in drink and found momentary peace in a stranger's bed, but the more he thought about it the more he instead convinced himself it was the right thing to do. After all he had stopped before, and this would only be a one-off situation. 

He’d gone to a bar, a place he’d used to visit at least once every few weeks, but hadn’t been to in a while. But as soon as he entered and felt the music pound deep in his chest he couldn’t understand why he had left. The thoughts of his dad, of work, of Rafael, all disappeared replaced instead with the simple desire to charm someone beautiful.  

After that his memories became a blur, but he did remember picking someone up, and going to her apartment. Remembered things were going well, on the face of it, but the normal feeling of excitement in his chest wasn’t there, and instead he just felt empty. And then all he could think about was Rafael, and how he wanted to be with Rafael, and how it almost felt like a betrayal to be doing this. A betrayal of all the work Rafael had done to try and help him mend, and that he was failing him. And from what he was starting to gather from his surroundings that had somehow led to him ending up at Rafaels apartment. 

The light coming through the windows was the orange of street lamps instead of the bright yellow of the sun, and Peter wondered what time it was. He patted down his trousers for his phone, before checking in the pockets of his jacket which had been hung on the back of a chair next to him, becoming increasingly panicked when he still couldn’t find it. He stumbled into the kitchen in the hopes of seeing the time on the microwave, sighing in relief when he saw his phone on the charger there, the sigh becoming more of a quiet groan when he realised it was just coming up to four. 

At least the late, or depending on how you looked at it, early, hour would let him leave without having to see Rafael. He wasn’t sure the little pride he had left would be able to take it. Shame and embarrassment welled up at just the thought of seeing him, having no idea exactly what state Rafael saw him in or what he might have said. And the very fact he had been in that state, that Rafael had had to help him, especially when he was probably going through his own problems, he couldn’t help but feel like a failure. 

But he also didn’t want a repeat of the last time he had snuck out on Rafael. So instead he took a pen out of his jacket, looking around for a piece of paper and finding a stack of post-its by the fridge. He thought for a few minutes about what to say, what could possibly make up for the fact Rafael had had to clean up his mess, and what a mess it had been. After the months of slowly getting better with Rafaels help he’d fallen right back to where he had started and Rafael was a witness to the way Peter was wasting his hard work. He wrote down the word sorry, before crossing it out and instead just leaving ‘thank you”, putting on his jacket, grabbing his phone, and leaving. 


End file.
